Time a chequered mantle wears;-- Earth awakes from wintry sleep; Again the Tree a blossom bears,-- Cease, Britannia, cease to weep! Hark to the peals on this bright May-morn! They tell that your future Queen is born! SOPRANO SOLO AND CHORUS A Guardian Angel fluttered Above the Babe, unseen; One word he softly uttered-- It named the future Queen: And a joyful cry through the Island rang, As clear and bold as the trumpet’s clang, As bland as the reed of peace-- “VICTORIA be her name!” For righteous triumphs are the base Whereon Britannia rests her peaceful fame. QUARTETT Time, in his mantle’s sunniest fold, Uplifted in his arms the child; And, while the fearless Infant smiled, Her happier destiny foretold:-- “Infancy, by Wisdom mild, Trained to health and artless beauty; Youth, by Pleasure unbeguiled From the lore of lofty duty; Womanhood in pure renown, Seated on her lineal throne: Leaves of myrtle in her Crown, Fresh with lustre all their own. Love, the treasure worth possessing More than all the world beside, This shall be her choicest blessing, Oft to royal hearts denied.” RECIT. (_accompanied_).--BASS That eve, the Star of Brunswick shone With stedfast ray benign On Gotha’s ducal roof, and on The softly flowing Leine; Nor failed to gild the spires of Bonn, And glittered on the Rhine.-- Old Camus too on that prophetic night Was conscious of the ray; And his willows whispered in its light, Not to the Zephyr’s sway, But with a Delphic life, in sight Of this auspicious day: CHORUS This day, when Granta hails her chosen Lord, And proud of her award, Confiding in the Star serene Welcomes the Consort of a happy Queen. AIR.--CONTRALTO Prince, in these Collegiate bowers, Where Science, leagued with holier truth, Guards the sacred heart of youth, Solemn monitors are ours. These reverend aisles, these hallowed towers, Raised by many a hand august, Are haunted by majestic Powers, The memories of the Wise and Just, Who, faithful to a pious trust, Here, in the Founder’s spirit sought To mould and stamp the ore of thought In that bold form and impress high That best betoken patriot loyalty. Not in vain those Sages taught.-- True disciples, good as great, Have pondered here their country’s weal, Weighed the Future by the Past, Learned how social frames may last, And how a Land may rule its fate By constancy inviolate, Though worlds to their foundations reel, The sport of factious Hate or godless Zeal. AIR.--BASS